


Worse for Wear

by SenatusConsultum (TheSenator)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSenator/pseuds/SenatusConsultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair takes care of you after a bad day in the field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worse for Wear

“What happened to you?” Altair asked as he watched her limp across the threshold of the bureau.

“Failed leap of faith while I was running from some guards,” she groaned. Altair’s eyes widened in alarm. “It was only a few stories—it could have been worse. My back is  _killing_  me, though. And my ankle. I, um… it was more of a trip than a leap,” she admitted sheepishly.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed,” Altair scolded.

“Yes, Mentor. I  _know_ ,” she said testily. She winced as she walked slowly toward her room.

Altair frowned; maybe he had been a little too harsh. He knew his fondness for her made him worry about her more than he should, but he couldn’t help himself. She was a skilled Assassin, but she was also reckless and rarely heeded his advice—the only reason Altair was her Mentor was because all of her previous Mentors had grown weary of her stubbornness and disobedience. She was guided by a fierce self-discipline, cultivated over years of fighting tooth and nail to make a place for herself in the Order. As a result, she fought with a ferocity that surpassed his own and was dangerously self-reliant, refusing help and insisting on carrying out group missions alone. In many ways, she reminded him of himself at her age, and that made him worry even more.

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind; he could fret later. The important thing was that she was alive and had made it safely to the bureau. He could take care of her body—tend to her injuries, get her back on her feet, and train with her to help her become even stronger. Strengthening her prudence and teaching her to rely more on her brothers and sisters? That would take much longer.

“You need to get off of that ankle until someone can examine it. Let me help you.”

Altair scooped her up in his arms. She hissed as he made contact with her back, but she settled down once he’d made a few adjustments to the way he was carrying her.

“Thank you, Mentor,” she said quietly. She smiled weakly at him.

He carried her to her quarters and carefully placed her on the edge bed. He eased off her boots and helped her out of her armor, gingerly removing belts, scabbards, and her hidden blade. He stripped her, slowly and carefully, down to her trousers and tunic, and then helped her lie down. He stroked her hair, reassuring both of them that she was safe.

“Lie still and try to get some sleep. I’ll call for a physician and look for some bandages and ointments and whatever else I can find to ease your pain,” Altair said. “Once you’ve rested, we’ll discuss what happened and how you can learn from it.”

“You aren’t upset with me?” she asked with a yawn. She closed her eyes as he continued to stroke her hair and gently massage her scalp.

He sighed. “No, I’m not  _upset_. You’re strong, and clever, and skilled. You’re an excellent Assassin. But you’re also careless and proud; this isn’t the first time you’ve leapt head-first into trouble. I don’t want your recklessness to become a weakness you can’t overcome.”

He stopped when he realized she’d fallen asleep. He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently.

“And,” he added softly, “I don’t want to lose you.”


End file.
